


Look Into Your Eyes and the Sky's the Limit

by Moonlightkitten



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Blame Lucy, F/M, Flynn's not having a good day, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I tried to make this serious but you know me, Lucy's probably just making up excuses to get kissed at this point, Marriage of Convenience, Rufus is salty, garcy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlightkitten/pseuds/Moonlightkitten
Summary: “Look, sir… You’re a ship captain. Can’t you just, well, marry us now?”





	Look Into Your Eyes and the Sky's the Limit

**Author's Note:**

> Unsurprisingly, the title is from Hamilton. 
> 
> Also, I don't own Timeless. If I did, Lucy and Flynn would be living together in a palace with twelve kids. (Kidding, that would suck for both of them. Amendment: twelve cats. Wait, is that just a lesbian thing? Do straight couples actually own cats? Straight people reading this, please clarify.) Also, Wyatt would be the janitor.

It wasn’t her fault this time. Really. They just needed a way to get aboard that ship, and, well. Her brain tended to short-circuit around Flynn. 

 

They were on a mission in London in 1763, attempting to stop Rittenhouse from releasing John Wilkes, who was about to be locked in the Tower of London for sedition. The Lifeboat had landed a bit too far away, however, (in France, actually-- piloting error) and they found themselves chasing the sleeper across the English Channel.  

 

Now, however, Lucy and Flynn were still on shore, arguing with the captain of the ferryboat. Rufus and Wyatt had already boarded the ship, but the captain seemed reluctant to let the two of them on, due to his high morals.  _ Sanctimonious bastard.  _

 

Currently, he was eyeing them skeptically as they asked him for tickets. “Good Christian faith,” he said gruffly, “dictates that I cannot let an unrelated lady and gentleman spend the night together in the same room. And, sir, with accents as different as those, you certainly aren’t siblings.”

 

“We’re married,” interjected Lucy quickly, with a complacent smile. Flynn nodded.

 

“Married my foot,” grunted the captain. “The gentleman is wearing a ring and you are not. It’s clear as day that you’re his, well…” he lowered his voice regretfully, “ _ mistress.  _ I simply cannot allow you to travel together, to  _ share close quarters,  _ in that manner. My reputation would be in shambles, and besides--” 

 

“We’re engaged?” offered Flynn, linking his fingers with Lucy’s. 

 

“Right,” she added, scrambling to find anything to save this flimsy cover. “We’re betrothed, and he’s a, er, widower. That’s why he has a ring.” She squeezed his hand, praying that this would work. During this time period, it was still considered highly improper for fiances to engage in any sort of amorous contact, even if it was just a chaste kiss on the mouth. 

 

The captain shook his head. “Well, I suppose it’s better than… the alternative, but it’s still simply indecent. Until the sacred institute of wedlock has been initiated, the Lord decrees…” 

 

He droned on about the impropriety of allowing unrelated women and men to sleep together, and Lucy glanced anxiously at the top of the gangplank, from which Rufus was gesturing at them frantically. Dammit. Why hadn’t Agent Christopher allowed Flynn to carry a gun? They needed to board this ship, and quickly. But she could really only think of one way to get past this captain, and… well. Neither of them really wanted to go there. Probably. 

 

She shot an anxious glance at Flynn, who stroked a reassuring thumb across her hand. An unsolicited tingle crept through her gut, and she willed it away. No time for that now. Would he be alright with what she had in mind?  _ No,  _ was her immediate thought,  _ of course not.  _ But then again, the way he looked at her sometimes…

 

Really, there were no other options. 

 

Lucy cleared her throat, interrupting the captain, who looked a bit miffed. “Look, sir… You’re a ship captain. Can’t you just, well, marry us now?” 

 

Flynn dropped her hand with surprising speed, even considering the audacity of what she had suggested. (And really, she shouldn’t have been surprised by that, but still, it stung a little. Especially since she was far less averse to the idea than she probably should have been.) 

 

“What?” he hissed, bringing his mouth down to her ear. The butterflies sprang again, unbidden, to her stomach. “Lucy, I understand the urgency of this situation, but there has to be another way--” 

 

“Good, what is it?” she replied with equal force. He said nothing, looking away. 

 

She sighed.“That’s what I thought. Mr. Captain, if you could be so kind...” 

 

The captain gaped at them for a few seconds, before folding his hands decisively. “Very well. You’ll have to give me a moment to fetch my Bible, as well as a few other things… George and Elijah can be the witnesses… yes, yes, very good.” He hobbled off, murmuring. 

 

As soon as he was out of earshot, Flynn turned to her, furious. “What the hell?” 

 

Lucy swallowed, decidedly avoiding his gaze. “It’s the only way, Flynn, you know that as well as I do.” 

 

He groaned in frustration. “Lucy… God. Is this real? Is this… this isn’t legally binding, right?” 

 

She closed her eyes, exhaling forcefully. “There’s no legal precedent. But marriages made in 1763 are of course still considered marriages in 2018, if that’s what you’re wondering. So yes, it kind of is.” 

 

He laughed darkly. “Really? Okay, so you want me to marry you, right now, with  _ no…  _ I don’t know, preparation, and--” 

 

“Flynn.”

 

“Let me talk!” he growled, speaking in increasingly escalated tones. “You want me to marry you, just for convenience, and oh, by the way, it’s not as though we could exactly get  _ divorced  _ in the present, no way in hell Denise is going to let our names appear all over court, and all for business, and of course I’ll be expected to pretend--” 

 

“ _ Flynn!”  _

 

“--as though I don’t have feelings for you, as though it never happened, and--”

 

“Wait, wait, what?” Her eyes were wide. “Flynn, did you just say that you…” 

 

“No,” he panted, out of breath. “Forget it. It’s nothing.” 

 

Tentatively, she wrapped a hand around his wrist, focusing those watery, crystal eyes on  him. “It’s not nothing. If you just said what I think you did, you should know that I, well--” 

 

“Lucy. It’s really fine. Just… never mind.” 

 

She peered at him for a few more moments, before sighing and turning away. “If you say so.” 

 

They awkwardly stood there for another two or three minutes in silence, mulling over the implications of this. A part of her brain would have been perfectly happy to just get the obligatory ceremony over with and then deny that it had ever happened. However, that part was currently being stifled by a flood of what was probably serotonin, if the uncomfortable heat between her thighs was any indication. It didn’t exactly help, of course, that her imagination was busy conjuring up  _ images  _ of him staring hungrily at her, lips swollen, as they… well. Thankfully, the captain and sailors entered once more, and she finally remembered to breathe. 

 

“Very well, in the interest of time, this ceremony shall be brief, of course,” he began, opening his Bible. “Give me your names, please.” 

 

“Lucy and Garcia Preston,” she said rapidly, not even remembering to use fake ones. When the captain glanced at her, confused, she corrected herself. “Sorry, Flynn. Lucy and Garcia Flynn. I mean, Garcia Flynn. I’m Lucy Preston. Right, that’s… right.” 

 

The captain sniffed. “Rather an undignified bride you have, Mr. Flynn. If I were you… well, that’s inconsequential. Miss Preston,” he began, turning to her, “In the name of the Lord, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and obey Garcia Flynn for the rest of your life, until death do you part?” 

 

“I do,” Lucy said quickly, knotting her fingers behind her back. God, she was doing this. Actually doing this. Of course, it wasn’t real. Not technically. Well, except that it rather was. But it wouldn’t matter, shouldn’t change things between them. Probably. 

 

“And do you, Mr. Flynn, promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect Miss Lucy Preston for all your days, until death do you part?” 

Garcia (because how could she think of him as anything else, now?) swallowed thickly. “I do,” he whispered, accent so heavy that she could barely make out the words. The captain cleared his throat, and she remembered suddenly what was coming next, wondering how on Earth she could have forgotten something so  _ significant _ . 

 

“Well, then, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and sixty-three, by the powers vested upon me by our heavenly father, I hereby pronounce you man and wife. Now, Mr. Flynn, you may kiss your wife.” 

 

It was quick, so quick that she didn’t even have time to close her eyes, but even so, a shiver shot down her spine as his lips met hers for the barest of seconds. And then it wore off, and she was surprised to find that she was… disappointed? This was not how she had imagined their first kiss (not that she had imagined it. Well, except that she had, and it had been rather magnificent and passionate in her daydreams. So yes, this was a bit of a letdown. What? She had been bored at the time.) She eyed Garcia searchingly, as if to say  _ is that all?  _ With an indiscernible look, he turned away. 

 

“Can we have our tickets now?” he growled, and the ship captain nodded begrudgingly, handing them both slips of paper. 

 

“Here they are, but for heaven’s sake… well, I don’t mean to be lewd, of course, but remember that the walls on this ship are rather thin. I understand that both of you will be eager to, to  _ consummate  _ this marriage, however, I would implore you to do so quietly.” 

 

Lucy flushed. “Right. We’ll definitely do that. I mean, we won’t  _ do  _ that, of course. But-- wait, actually. Never mind. Thanks for all your help.” She clutched at Garcia’s hand, and, without another word, dragged him up the gangplank. 

Her husband (God, that was weird) was silent as they found a sofa inside of the lounge and waited for Wyatt and Rufus to appear. She studied him for a moment, before making a weak attempt at humor. “I was totally lying about the obey part, by the way.” 

 

His face betrayed nothing. “Right, and the love and cherish parts were completely serious, I suppose.” 

 

She didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so she kept her mouth shut. (Which, she realized later, had actually probably produced the unintended effect of leaving  _ that  _ door open. The worst part was that it wasn’t exactly a lie. Perhaps it was not true now, but, well... it didn’t seem entirely out of the question that she could one day love him, she supposed. The mere idea simultaneously terrified and ever so slightly intrigued her.)

Several more minutes passed in silence before Wyatt rushed up, concerned. “Where the hell have you two been? We were looking all over for you-- Rufus was worried you might not have gotten on the ship.”

 

Rufus appeared panting at his side. “Guys, seriously? Did you decide to set your watches to geological time, or what?” 

 

“No,” said Garcia, crossing his arms. “We just had some trouble at the gangplank, that’s all. Right, Lucy?” 

 

“Yep,” she agreed hastily. “Just, uh, passports. They wanted to see our passports. We got through alright, though. Are there drinks? Can we have drinks? I really need a drink.”

 

Rufus snorted. “Funny, they didn’t ask to see our passports. Probably since you’ve got an accent and all. So nice when all the racism isn’t aimed at  _ me _ . Wait, xenophobia? Would it be xenophobia?” 

 

Lucy gave him a  _ look _ . 

 

“Right, sorry,” he said, snapping back to attention. “Wyatt, let’s go see if they’ve got a bar anywhere.” 

The two left, and Lucy turned to Garcia, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Everything fine? Between us?”

 

“Yes,” he murmured. His voice, though, was hoarse, and he still steadily avoided her gaze. Lucy sighed. There wasn’t exactly anything that could fix this awkwardness, she supposed, except time. (And possibly a good snog, but that was neither here nor there.)

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so Google informed me that ship captains haven't actually always been able to marry people. But screw history, if it means they can kiss, right? Right?  
>  Comments=Cocaine (Seriously, though, please comment. It means a lot.)


End file.
